Posted by peskypippi | Posted in Attitude, Confidence, Exercise, Health, Me Time, Mom Time, Women | Posted on 16-07-2012
running jogging again. OK, let’s call it what it really is. Clomping.
You know, graceful like a Clydesdale? Clomp. Clomp. You could hear me coming a mile away.
I used to run. A lot. Like, obsessively. When I was in college, I’d log in between 50-75 miles a week. If I didn’t get “enough” miles in by Saturday, I’d run an extra five miles that night. Yeah, running alone at 11:00 p.m. That was safe. Then double those miles on Sunday, to make my quota.
But that was a long time ago.
I have tried running since. When my youngest two children were a toddler and an infant. First, I strapped them into a jogging stroller made for one. Then I strapped my boobs into two jog bras (because breast feeding breasts are quite unwieldy).
And we would all ramble down the graveled road like a rickshaw.
You can imagine why this activity was soon replaced with a stationary bike, then later an elliptical machine. It’s just too dang hard to run with children. What with the bundling, strapping, packing Goldfish-crackers-and-apple-juice snacks, soothing the crying newborn, you kinda forget that you’re supposed to be exercising. This was supposed to be MY time.
Several years later, I find myself wanting to run again. I have a lot of friends who run. They are pretty bad ass–and run marathons regularly. They inspire me to go
running jogging. By myself. With no kids in tow.
To hear the quiet. To feel the fresh air. To sweat.